


U-Turn

by ophellos



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Best Friends, Bisexual Castiel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, Break Up, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 14:18:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11209809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ophellos/pseuds/ophellos
Summary: Dean is halfway through chewing the first bite of his post-sex-with-Cas burger when Cas says, “Dean, I think we should break up.”





	U-Turn

**Author's Note:**

> A silly, unbeta'd thing.  
> Inspired by U-Turn by Tegan and Sara.

Dean is halfway through chewing the first bite of his post-sex-with-Cas burger when Cas says, “Dean, I think we should break up.”

Dean chokes and then struggles to swallow past the lump suddenly in his throat. “But we’re not dating,” he says, clearing his throat and looking wide eyed across the table at his best friend.

Castiel sighs and lays his own burger down. “That’s the problem,” he says. “I want to date and you don’t.”

Dean’s mouth is suddenly very dry and his heart races. He sputters, “But what we have is good? It’s good right?” 

It took months and months and years of mutual attraction and pining for Dean and Cas to get together. They had been best friends for years and hadn’t been single at the same time for most of their relationship and when it finally lined up right, they fell into bed together and hadn’t looked at anyone else.

 _And it_ is _good_ , Dean thinks to himself. _What’s better than having sex with the guy who makes you laugh so hard that soda comes out your nose?_

Castiel sighs again. “Yes, Dean, it is good. So good that I’m…having feelings, and I need us to stop this if you aren’t as more serious than you say you are.”

There goes the fluttering in his stomach followed by the ton of weight dropped right on top. Dean shakes his head and turns his stare back to his burger and sulks.

Castiel nods and the rest of their dinner is silent.

 

They decide to have a period of silence, of not speaking. Castiel says it will be good for the both of them, like they’ll be able to press restart on their friendship and when they come back together, they’ll both be so happy to be together again that they can put aside all the extra bullshit and concentrate on their friendship.

 

Dean thinks it should get easier with time. Eventually, he’ll stop picking his phone up and getting halfway through a text message before realizing. Eventually he’ll stop turning to give Castiel some quirky joke at the gym or when he’s watching their favorite show. Eventually his blunts will stop tasting like Castiel’s lips, smoky and sweet. Eventually he’ll stop being plagued by awful dreams where they make up and then have to wake to the truth.

It doesn’t though. Three weeks in, he’s ready to move to another state because maybe it’ll be easier to just start over completely, meet new people who aren’t friends with his ex-FWB, ex-whatever, friends who don’t casually mention that Castiel went out on a date with Balthazar or Meg or Hannah or whoever his flavor of the week is. Maybe it would be easier to move somewhere that he isn’t reminded of Castiel every time he leaves his house.

Sam’s ready to murder him, Dean can tell. He hasn’t been able to watch his weirdo nature documentaries in three weeks because Dean is in a permanent state of catatonic, wrapped up on the couch and watching _Dr. Sexy, MD_ or, humiliatingly, the occasional rom-com that he just _happens_ to _accidentally_ leave on.

Dean ignores yet another call from Charlie and turns the volume up as Dr. Sexy hooks up with another medical resident and tries to ignore that this is the longest stretch of time he’s been without someone in his bed since Castiel had to go home for Christmas last year. And he’s not even horny, he just wants to hold someone’s hand and wake up with a heartbeat in his ear. God, what is he, a girl?

Sam plops down on the couch and snatches up Dean’s phone.

“Hey!” Dean halfheartedly argues and then Sam is dropping his phone back into his hands, Tinder log-in open on the screen.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but please find someone and get this out of your system,” Sam says.

Dean tosses his phone down on the cushion. “I don’t want to,” he says petulantly.

Sam sighs. “Listen, man. You need to talk to Castiel.”

“No.” No, that’s the opposite of what Dean wants. That would make things worse.

“Dean, you’re both miserable!”

“He doesn’t want to see me,” Dean says. “He said he didn’t.”

“That’s because he hasn’t seen what a miserable mess you are.” Sam says. “You said he didn’t want to be fuck-buddies anymore because he wanted more. Why don’t you want that?”

Dean huffs. “Relationships suck,” he says.

Sam laughs in disbelief. “How is what you were doing with Cas any different than a relationship besides the label?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Cas and I are— _were_ best friends who sleep— _slept_ together.” And damn if those tense changes don’t hurt like a bitch.

“So you’ve got friendship and attraction and romantic feelings on _at least_ one side,” Sam says, pointedly looking at Dean and ticking off his fingers. “Throw in your own feelings and dude, that’s a relationship.”

“That’s…” Dean says. “That’s not—is it?”

“I mean there’s respect and communication.” Sam says and then looks closely at him. “You didn’t get dumped as a friend, you got dumped as a boyfriend.”

And that one’s a doozy to wrap his head around because Dean has been running from that label as long as Cas and he had been doing this dance and to end up being Castiel’s boyfriend despite all his sabotaging and avoiding? Absolutely mind-numbingly terrifying. And the fact that Dean hadn’t even gotten to appreciate the good parts of being Cas’s boyfriend just pisses him off more.

And yeah it’s his fault in the first place for never saying anything and for running screaming from the concept, but that doesn’t make him any less upset about it.

 

Dean goes on that Tinder date. Okay, he goes on several dates. And maybe he sleeps with all of them in a terrible attempt to fuck Castiel out of his system.

Carmen’s a nice girl, a nurse and Dean can get behind that. He’s always admired people who help others. She fucks like a porn star too, all loud moans and wandering hands that reach behind his balls and slide up his taint to press in teasingly. He comes with two fingers in his ass and her other hand tangled in his hair as she rides his face. She’s basically perfect and Dean feels guilty about not calling her back.

And then there’s Lisa who’s sweet and doe-eyed and she has a little boy. Dean likes her a lot but when they have marathon yoga sex, all that Dean thinks of is Cas, who does naked yoga every morning before work, who takes a hit in between downward dog and cobra and lets the smoke out as he pushes his pelvis into the floor and his shoulders up and back. Yeah, Dean thinks maybe he’s ruined for yoga.

Michael is next and he’s bossy and arrogant and Dean hates that except that when they sleep together, Michael is bossy and arrogant in bed too. Dean lets Michael fuck him and he fucks him so hard that Dean only thinks a little bit about how Cas used to fuck him: holding his wrists above his head as he gives it to him to slowly or riding him with his hand fisted in Dean’s hair.

Every time Dean does his walk of shame—and damn it never felt shameful until he started fucking his best friend and then had to go back to Tinder fucks—Sam just shakes his head sadly when Dean walks through the front door. Dean wants to argue with him that _he_ suggested this but that would inevitably lead to a conversation about Dean’s _feelings_ and _just call Cas_ and Dean isn’t up for that shit.

 

Dean is just absolutely chugging beer when he glances at the movement at the front door and sees Castiel enter Bela’s apartment and he immediately chokes on the lukewarm drink. Across from him, Meg triumphantly slams her own cup down on the counter and lets out an “Aha! Gotcha, Winchester!”

Dean doesn’t answer her because he’s too busy staring wide eyed at Castiel, shrugging off his trench coat and helping the woman next to him with her coat as well. She’s beautiful, with wavy brown hair to her shoulders and a sweet face and she lets her hand linger on Castiel’s bicep as she thanks him.

Next to him, Charlie lets out a groan. “Oh no,” she says. “I’m so sorry, Dean, I didn’t know he’d be here.”

Dean makes a very valiant attempt at shrugging and not having a panic attack. “No big deal,” he says, voice shaking. “We have mutual friends, it was bound to happen.”

Meg notices that Dean isn’t paying attention to her celebrations and rolls her eyes when she sees what they’re looking at. “Oh god,” she says. “Daphne.”

Dean zeros in on that one. “What’s wrong with her?” he asks a little too enthusiastically.

“She’s a buzzkill,” Meg says. “Total Jesus freak.”

Dean frowns and watches as the couple makes their way over to Bela to greet her. He watches the way Castiel introduces her to Bela, smiling down at her with his people smile and he tries not to feel smug over the fact that it’s not his genuine smile.

It’s silly to feel possessive over a smile, right? Dean sighs because he knows it is, knows that for all he knows, Castiel gave that smile to all his dates, not just Dean. He can still picture it, Castiel leaned over him, both gasping as he enters Dean, Castiel’s face blissed out and _fond_ and Dean burying his face into Castiel’s neck, unable to handle the unfiltered emotion that shown through.

Looking back, Dean should have seen it coming.

Dean manages to keep a hold of himself for about fifteen minutes before Castiel and Daphne have finished making their rounds and can no longer avoid the three of them. Castiel gets out a shaky “Dean,” and then Dean is stepping away, wobbling on drunk legs and darting away into the kitchen with a mumbled excuse about getting a drink. 

Dean is a coward. He knows this and accepts this and he swallows down the vodka with a gasp and a grimace. He stares down at the array of alcohol, checking that he won’t be taking the only vodka and then he makes another escape down the hallway to Bela’s bedroom. He sits on the floor against Bela’s bed with a sigh. The bedroom is being used as a coat room and jackets cover the surface of Bela’s bed and Dean isn’t such an asshole to sit on top of it all.

Dean presses against his eye sockets with his knuckles and _does not_ think about Daphne and Castiel having sweet, vanilla sex. Of course, then he’s thinking about himself and Cas having sex instead and he lets himself lose himself in it for a single, pathetic moment. Of course, that’s a mistake too because he feels his dick twitch and he groans with frustration and takes another swig of the vodka.

He’s put a bit of a dent into the vodka by the time he realizes that someone is turning the handle of the doorknob and pushing the door open.

And yup, now he’s realizing the error of his ways because in the doorway, laden with their jackets is Castiel. Dean put himself right in the line of fire on this one. They stare at each other for long seconds.

“Dean,” Castiel says finally, frowning and closing the door behind him “You look…terrible. Are you sick?”

Dean laughs without amusement. “I’m in hell, man,” he says. “I miss you. I miss my best friend.”

Castiel dumps their coats on the bed and stares down at his feet. “Yes, well,” Castiel says. “This will be good for us. Distance.” And then contradicting himself, Castiel slumps against the wall that Dean is facing and slides down to sit across from him.

“So, Daphne, huh?” Dean asks and hopes Castiel can’t hear the bitterness in his tone.

Castiel lets out a huff of laughter. “I know, I know,” he says and cringes. “I’m not making a good first impression. She can smell the smoke on me.”

Dean laughs. “Man, are you dating a fucking _narc_? How the hell did you think this was going to turn out?”

Castiel laughs softly with him and then looks at him seriously. “She’s a distraction,” he says and he smiles that fond smile, directed at Dean for the first time in weeks and Dean feels high on it. Dean is drunk enough that when he catches Cas’ eyes, he thinks it might not be a terrible idea to shift forward onto his knees and reach out for Cas.

“Dean,” Castiel says, not a warning, not a request to stop. Just his name, simple and uncomplicated, pulled from Castiel’s lips. Dean hesitates just once as he crosses the distance, crawling into Castiel’s lap and then they’re kissing.

It’s tentative at first, both of them unsure but soon Castiel takes control like Dean has grown used to, working Dean’s mouth open with his own and sliding his tongue in beside Dean’s, rubbing up his palate and plunging in to claim Dean’s mouth. Dean moans into the kiss and grips onto Castiel’s shirt collar tightly. Castiel’s own hands slide down to rest on Dean’s hips, thumbs hooking in his belt loops and tugging him forward and then they’re grinding.

Castiel’s cock is getting hard against Dean’s ass and Dean pulls a move he knows drives Castiel crazy, sliding his hips forward and back, feeling the length of Cas and getting his own delicious friction against Castiel’s stomach when he slides forward.

Castiel breaks off the kiss and reaches up to card one hand through Dean’s hair and cup the side of Dean’s neck with his other hand. It’s in that intimate moment, staring into each other’s eyes as they rut like teenagers, that the door to Bela’s room opens and Daphne walks in and freezes at the sight before her.

They both look at her at the same time and then freeze. “Daphne,” Castiel grits out, and then Dean is being pushed off of him and dumped on the floor as Castiel runs after Daphne.

Dean sits there in shock until Charlie comes to find him and then he doesn’t say anything on the entire way home, thinking about the way Castiel had shoved him away, about the way he had gone after Daphne.

 

A week later finds Dean sighing as he looks through the peephole on their door and sees that it isn’t Castiel banging on the door like he had daydreamed it might be. When he opens it, Charlie gives him appraising look, eyes taking in his wrinkled, stained sweats, his hair, stuck flat on one side from sleeping on it, his puffy eyes. And god, yeah he knows he’s gained a few pounds from eating his feelings since this whole thing started, add that to the pile of shit he needs to get a handle on.

“You need a shower,” Charlie says, stepping past him into the apartment. “We’re going out.”

Dean groans. “Come on,” he whines. “Can’t we just marathon Star Trek?”

“As much as I would love to hear you go on again about how Riker was your sexual awakening,” Charlie says cheerfully, shoving a towel into his arms. “You can’t tempt me today. I’m on a mission.”

Dean stops from where he was reluctantly wandering down the hallway to the bathroom. “You talked to Sam,” he says.

Charlie frowns. “What do you mean?” she asks.

“He keeps telling me to go on dates,” Dean answers. “I really don’t want to go on another date.”

Charlie raises her right hand. “I swear on your childhood Han Solo poster that I’m not forcing you on a blind date.”

Dean eyes her suspiciously but he complies with her wishes, slinking into the bathroom to wash the last few days’ grime off of him.

Because nothing will leave him the fuck alone, because everything in his life endeavors to torture him, even his fucking _shower_ reminds him of Cas.

He thinks about the first time Cas had stayed over, years ago before their friendship had become more, when Castiel had emerged from the bathroom in one of their fluffy towels, water dripping down his chest and Dean suddenly had the urge to _lick_ the rivulets from his body, like a man lost in the desert with only the water on Cas’ body to satisfy him.

He thinks about the times they had stood in the small shower together, about Cas pressing him up against the wall, about dropping to his knees and taking Castiel in his mouth, water dripping into his eyes.

He thinks about the smell of his soap on Castiel’s skin, always smelling a thousand times better than it had on Dean.

And damn, yeah, here he is, hot tears on his face and he thinks maybe he was in love with Cas, _is_ in love with Cas.

“Fuck,” Dean says and scrubs a hand over his face.

When he returns to his room, Charlie has laid out an outfit for him and that seems a little suspicious, but honestly Dean is just glad he doesn’t have to extend the energy to do it himself.

It isn’t until Charlie has him by the arm and guiding him towards the café that Dean realizes she’s picked his best clothes and that he can see Castiel through the window. 

“You promised!” Dean says petulantly.

Charlie rolls her eyes. “Technically I swore it wasn’t a blind date,” she says, opening the door for him and waving him through. He keeps his eyes glued to the ground as they approach Castiel.

“Charlie,” he hears Cas rumble. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

Charlie rolls her eyes. “You guys are both idiots,” she says. “And you need to talk so I’m going to go sit at that table over there and drink my coffee and you two are going to order those shitty prepackaged sandwiches that you like and talk about your feelings.”

Several minutes later finds them with those sandwiches, both staring down at the food silent and trying to ignore Charlie’s nonchalant spying.

Dean is hit with that lurching feeling again as Castiel peels the layers of the sandwich apart and disassembles it in the little plastic container. Castiel wipes his fingers off on a napkin and when he looks back up at Dean, Dean swallows hard.

“You went after her.” Dean says, feeling his face flush and he turns to stare down at his sandwich.

Castiel nods, looking down too. “Daphne is a nice woman. We aren’t…compatible, but I hurt her and I wanted to apologize.”

“You hurt me too,” Dean mumbles.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says immediately, reaching out to grab Dean’s hand. “I can admit that I panicked, that I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t stop to think what it would look like for me to go after her. I’m sorry.”

“I’m—” Dean says and then his eyes bug out because holy shit, is he going to do this?

Castiel looks alarmed. “Are you okay?”

“—in love,” Dean says. “With you. Um.”

“What?”

“Don’t make me fuckin’ say it again, man,” Dean says.

Castiel stares at him for a few seconds and then he smiles slowly. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” he says, leaning forward.

“Bastard,” Dean says and Castiel just tilts his head, leaning forward and looking at him expectantly. Dean takes a breath. “I’m in love with you,” Dean says again.

Cas smiles and reaches for his hand. They smile at each other and Charlie smiles at them from across the room and then when Castiel glances at the restrooms, and then excuses himself, Dean quickly falling over himself to follow a minute later, Charlie decides to leave them to it.

They lock the door—thank god it’s a single— and they fist each other tightly, tips sliding together and gasping into each other’s mouths. When they’re slumped together a few minutes later, breathing heavily into the crooks of each other’s neck, Castiel turns to Dean and says “I love you” and Dean blushes and says “I love you too.”


End file.
